


Three Sentence Ficathon 2013 Fills - JRR Tolkien Division

by ViaLethe



Series: Three Sentence Ficathon 2013 [6]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, Where's Waldo - Martin Handford
Genre: 3 Sentence Fiction, Crossover, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:02:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViaLethe/pseuds/ViaLethe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various JRR Tolkien-inspired fills of mine from the 2013 Three Sentence Ficathon, with original prompts included.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No More Ever I Spoke

_Prompt: Lord of the Rings; Arwen, Rivendell, time travel, archeology_

 

She thinks of returning, once he's dead and gone and her life turns blank, leeched of color and joy. She thinks of sitting in the halls of her father's house until they grow bare and empty as her heart, dusty and disused, with only the echoes of love and memory to sustain her, until she is as one of the statues in the gardens, an object of curiosity, of a past long forgotten by all who remain.

In the end she rejects this, and travels forward rather than back; she is yet made of softer things than stone, and he awaits her still, beyond the endless shores of the world.


	2. We Will Keep You

_Prompt: LotR, Frodo/Nimrodel, lost and found_

 

"I lost my whole world," she says, "and everything in it."

"Maybe it's not meant to be found," he responds, staring over the salt waves, the spray misting in his curls. "Perhaps you're meant to create one anew."


	3. The Striped Wanderer

_Prompt: Where's Waldo/LOTR, Waldo & Aragorn, Not all those who wander are lost_

 

The hooded man narrows his eyes, puffs on his short pipe, and says, "A friend of Bombadil, then?" eying Waldo's striped garb, his bright hat.

Waldo shakes his head and leaves the Bree inn, in search of a place with taller folk, where he might blend in, be less conspicuous. Perhaps this Bombadil will have the answers; until then, he's content to wander.


	4. Too Good for That

_Prompt: Lord of the Rings, Gandalf & Belladonna Took, Discussing Bilbo as a young child_

 

“He's growing up so much like his father,” Belladonna says with a sigh, “as interested in the contents of the pantry as anything else.”

He knows she's happy here, as happy as it's possible for a hobbit to be (which is very happy indeed), filled to the brim with love of her husband, and their little son, and the hole built in tribute to her, but there's still a gleam in her eyes when she looks over the hills, and a longing in her sighs.

“Well, we'll have to see what can be done about that; it wouldn't do for the son of Belladonna Took to be _dull_ ,” Gandalf says, blowing out a smoke ring and giving her a wink, heartened by the grin she gives in return.


	5. You're the Hunger in My Bones

_Prompt: Silmarillion, Varda/Manwe, fire and light_

 

His mind burns with the flames of wisdom; she thinks she can see the sparks in his eyes at times, and from them she takes the inspiration for her stars, spilling his sparks across the sky.

He smiles when she tells him this ( but does not laugh, he whose smiles are given so generously, but laughs so rarely, knowing too much), and fingers the dark smoke of her hair, so like the dark blanket of the heavens.

"Varda, my love, the light is all your own, and the fire too, I think," he says, and she sees the truth of this, too, shining reflected in his eyes.


	6. Somewhere the Sun Shines and Birds Fly

_Prompt: Silmarillion, Elwing, flight_

 

She breathes deep of the sea and salt; the wind blows from the waves, and blocks the scents of blood and fear and fire behind her.

She hears their approach at her back, feels it in the heat of the gem, throbbing at her breast, glowing bright as a star, blocking their darkness.

She tastes the salt tang – from the ocean spray, from her tears, from the weeping of the very land for her people, she could not say – turns to face these sons of Feanor, these _dispossessed_ (as they have dispossessed her, as they would do again), and falls beyond them, into oblivion, never expecting to fly.


	7. Turning in Revolutions

_Prompt: Silmarillion, Maglor, any well-known historical event_

 

He watches them pour over the shores of Britain, these Romans, and feels something tug inside himself; they remind him of his own people, with their urge to organize and build and order, to shape the world to their whims.

He sees their leader once, the man called Caesar, and is reminded of his father, the same strength and purpose, the same will capable of holding thousands of individuals, of making them into one driving force.

He flexes the fingers of his burned hand, and takes up his ancient sword once more; when Caesar and his Romans are driven from the shores, he stands alongside the cheering Britons, and is not sorry to see them leave.


End file.
